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PHILADELPHIA, Dec. 16 — So after all the anticipation and nervousness, how are the acoustics at Verizon Hall, the new home of the Philadelphia Orchestra, the main component of the new Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts?

That was the big question hovering over the three-day gala opening weekend of Kimmel Center, the $265 million complex occupying nearly an entire block on a stretch of Broad Street south of City Hall known as the Avenue of the Arts. However Verizon Hall is ultimately judged acoustically, Philadelphians already have much to be proud of.

The architect Rafael Viñoly has created an awesome yet welcoming public space covered by a huge, vaulted glass roof that houses the 2,500-seat Verizon Hall. The center includes the 650-seat Perelman Theater (still unfinished), which will be used for chamber music, dance and drama presentations; classrooms for educational programs; and shops, restaurants, roof gardens and snack bars. The official public ribbon-cutting ceremony took place this morning, followed by a full day of free performances, tours, activities and workshops. But the most anticipated event, for which an international roster of critics showed up, was Saturday night's concert by the Philadelphia Orchestra, its first in its new home. So what about the acoustics?

In fairness, it's too early to say. If this sounds like a hedge, you have to remember that only part of assessing a hall's acoustics involves objective measurements of reverberation rates and such. A big component is subjective, what could be called psycho- acoustics. Does knowing that Carnegie Hall has famously wonderful sound predispose you to enjoy music there? Suppose you did not know that the Academy of Music, the Philadelphia Orchestra's previous home, an elegant old place built as an opera house in 1857, has long been thought to have dry acoustics. If you heard a knock-out performance of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony there, you would probably think the hall had a wonderful sound.

The ambience and look of Verizon Hall are already in its favor. Instead of the traditional shoe-box design of acoustically splendid places like Boston's Symphony Hall, Verizon is curvaceous, like a cello, as Mr. Viñoly has said. The upper tiers of seats extend in back of the stage, surrounding the orchestra.

The first hint of its acoustics came on Friday night with a glitzy black- tie gala show and buffet dinner (with a top ticket price of $5,000) for an exclusive audience of patrons and supporters. And the hint was not encouraging.

Critics were discouraged from coming. Many who wanted tickets were not accommodated. It began with the Bright Hope Baptist Church Celestial Choir in a soulful rendition of "God Bless America" and ended with Elton John, who had been paid $2 million for his appearance, singing his songs from the piano for nearly an hour.

Sir Elton's fee was covered by the center's namesake, Sidney Kimmel, the Philadelphia-born businessman and philanthropist who made the largest single donation (some $30 million). At one point Mr. Kimmel and a surprise celebrity guest, the singer Paul Anka, performed "My Way," a song whose lyrics, by Mr. Anka, were redone for the occasion.

The Philadelphia Orchestra was represented only by a contingent of brass and percussion players who performed Copland's short "Fanfare for the Common Man." The rest of the program was fairly lightweight, offering the pianist André Watts in a novelty (his transcription of Bernstein's Overture to "Candide") and two mezzo-sopranos, Denyce Graves and Frederica von Stade, accompanied by Warren Jones.

In the hall that night Mr. Watts's piano sound was thin and distant, and the voices of Ms. Graves and Ms. Von Stade lacked bloom and presence. I assumed and hoped that the problem was the huge riggings of lights suspended from the ceiling that Sir Elton had brought along. For his portion of the show he employed heavy- duty amplification that was painful to the ears. I went fleeing after three songs. Call me a classical music wimp, but in my profession I need to keep my hearing safe for harpsichord recitals.

On Saturday morning, during a Kimmel Center tour, I caught some of the rehearsal of the Philadelphia Orchestra. This time the sound in the empty hall was, if anything, overly bright and reverberant. That night during the concert with people in all the seats the acoustics seemed much better. The local media had already reported that Wolfgang Sawallisch, the orchestra's esteemed music director, and many of the players were thrilled with the new home. Finally, they said, they can hear one another from the stage, which was a problem at the Academy of Music.

The musicians had had only two rehearsals in the hall before Saturday's concert. They had been kept out by carpenters and painters working around the clock to get the place ready. As the musicians get to know the hall better, their reactions may change.

All one can do at this early stage is offer first impressions. After a rousing performance of the national anthem, the program opened with a commissioned work, "Color Wheel" by Aaron Jay Kernis, a Philadelphia native who has gone on to a Pulitzer Prize-winning career. Mr. Kernis clearly felt that the occasion called for a splashy public piece.

He describes "Color Wheel" as a 15-minute concerto for orchestra, and it's a whirlwind of spiraling riffs, pulsating "Rite of Spring" poundings and a moody Gerswhinesque middle section with an ambling electric bass. It seems a consciously accessible, neo-Romantic work with big surging melodic moments and a brassy climactic, cymbal-clashing finale. The work certainly gave the orchestra a chance to show off. Yet even with the hall full the sound was bright, a bit clinical. Balances favored the percussion and brass. The violins came through more fully than the cellos.

Then Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma and Emanuel Ax appeared onstage to perform the violin, cello and piano solos in Beethoven's Triple Concerto. This time with the orchestra reduced to Beethoven-symphony size the sound while still clear seemed less present and lacking in warmth. For example, heard in Carnegie Hall Mr. Perlman's violin tone can be lush and silken almost to a fault. Here it seemed leaner and less burnished.

But I must say again that many factors affect the perception of acoustics. In the Largo movement, Mr. Ma played the wistful opening melody for cello solo so elegantly that for a while you forgot all about the acoustics.

There was a frightening moment in the spirited third movement when Mr. Ma, swaying on his chair, tipped over and fell backward off the short riser he was seated on. He landed on his back on the floor. Though he looked badly shaken, he got right up and played a cello passage standing, not missing a note, then sat back down, once a violinist from the orchestra retrieved his chair. He seemed to be O.K., for he played excellently afterward.

The concert concluded with a plush, rhapsodic yet refreshingly rhythmic account of the Suite No. 2 from Ravel's "Daphnis et Chloé," for which the orchestra was complemented by the Philadelphia Singers Chorale, stationed in the upper tiers behind the stage. A trusted critic colleague from Paris, who had been unhappy with the sound in the hall from his seat in the orchestra section, where I also sat, moved to the top balcony for the Ravel and reported that the acoustics were quite impressive.

It is too early for pronouncements, for it takes orchestral musicians months, even years, to adjust to a new hall. In this case they will have the capability of adjusting the hall itself. The acoustician Russell Johnson from Artec Consultants has incorporated adjustable components into the building so that in a sense it can be tuned like an instrument.

Suspended above the stage is an acoustic control canopy system in three sections, each of which can be lowered or raised to alter balances among the instruments. There are also acoustic control curtains and banners, which can be extended from the walls to soak up reverberation if desired.

If the goal is to enhance reverberation, there are 100 control chambers lining the side walls of the hall on every level. When opened, they will increase the space within which the sound in the hall can reverberate.

During Saturday's tour, Mr. Johnson explained that for several months, at least when the Philadelphia Orchestra is in the hall, the chambers will be kept closed, and the other adjustable elements will be left at their current settings. This is to give Mr. Sawallisch and the musicians time to explore the hall's characteristics before they start tinkering.

Though having the capability to alter the hall may seem an important innovation, it's a complicated matter. Musicians become very adept at adjusting to a hall. Some people believe that the characteristic richness of the Philadelphia's string sound comes from decades of having to work hard to be heard at the Academy of Music. If the conductor can suddenly adjust the hall's acoustics, rendering the sound one way for a Mozart symphony, another for the Berio Sinfonia, then you can imagine rehearsals becoming endless tinkering sessions.

All this will be worked out in time. For now the musicians say they are happy. And happy musicians play better. When music is played well, it makes a concert hall's sound seem better. Such is the nature of psycho- acoustics.

I just found out today that I am going to the new hall at the end of this month. I am going on a day trip with my symphony to hear a concert and take a tour of the hall. I guess that a couple of orchestra members are going to take us backstage and everything! I'm very excited to hear them play!